


Neither of Us Will Be Missed

by Guavee



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Raccooninnit, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Tommy starts out homeless, Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), accidental arson, dreams a bitch, eventually, wilbur is a good brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guavee/pseuds/Guavee
Summary: Tommy is a homeless kid, having long abandoned his original foster home. Like the raccoon he is, he survives by sneaking into stranger's houses and borrowing their living spaces when they aren't around. He actually feels pretty bad about it, but he won't admit that to anyone.It was only bound to go wrong eventually. Luckily someone is willing to bail him out of trouble when he accidentally commits arson. Or at least he thought.Found family with some major hurdles, one of them being a green bitch named Dream.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 138





	Neither of Us Will Be Missed

The kid ran, his feet pounding against the cement, the worn-down soles of his shoes not doing much to stop the harsh ground from hurting his feet. The boy was tattered and worn, his clothes appearing as if they hadn’t been changed in a while. His blonde hair was longer than it usually was, causing slight tangles in it due to a clear lapse in self-care. The runner locked eyes on a building, its lights out. They hadn’t been on in a few weeks, he assumed the owner hadn’t been around in awhile. Either having moved out or on a temporary vacation. It would work perfectly for what he needed. 

The building was one story, but it had a backyard that was fenced in. The child, Tommy, had been here before keeping tabs on the home but had never tried to enter before. The fence seems easy enough to climb, and as he approached it he put his hands on the board that ran along the center and hoisted himself up onto it, balancing on the thin board. The kid huffed, the heavy old backpack he carried with him causing him to have a harder time staying upright on his climb. However, he persisted, gripping the top of the fence and successfully side leaping over it. He panicked for a split moment as he failed to reattach himself to the opposite of the fence, causing him to smack into the muddy ground. Tommy groaned, noting to himself that he would now look more homeless than he already does, then pushed himself up from the dirt. There was a slight jolt of pain from his chest, but it wasn’t severe enough for him to worry about. He shuddered at the cold, not only was the mud cold due to being wet. It was winter and he didn’t own a coat. Perhaps the homeowner wouldn’t notice a few articles of clothing missing if he could get inside. He felt bad at the thought of stealing from a stranger, but he wasn’t sure how else he was going to keep himself going.

He was too young to visit normal resources without getting tossed back into foster care, and he can’t see himself ever going back there. He had never wanted to go in the first place, but a distant friend he had before everything had gone down had turned him in. He meant well, but it had led to hell for the young boy. He missed Tubbo, but he couldn’t help but be bitter he hadn’t let him stay with his family in hiding. The foster system was not what he thought it would be, and even within the care of adults, he found himself going hungry often, fighting with other boys, and even being hurt for those that were supposed to care for him. He had learned very quickly that most people who fostered did it for the money, and didn’t actually seem to hold much fondness for the kids that wound up with them. Even worse, many of the other kids were assholes. Not really enjoying having another housemate share what little resources they were receiving. 

Or maybe Tommy had just gotten really unlucky. Either way, his last home they had sent him to had been the last he could take of that hellscape, and the foster parents hadn’t given enough of a shit to actually keep tabs on the kids they were supposed to be watching. They were constantly under the influence, often taking their anger out on Tommy. He shuddered at the memory, feeling ghost pains from where they had previously injured him. Legally they were probably still being paid for taking care of him when the boy had long disappeared from their care. It was sick. 

Focusing back on the familiar task at hand, he scanned the back of the house for any entrances. Feeling relieved when he spotted two different windows at the back of the house. When he realized he almost felt excited to have a way to break in, guilt came crashing down on him. He felt awful, but he did what he had to in order to get by.

He looked at the rest of the backyard, seeing how nice it was. The grass was the soft kind, not the kind you would find growing out in a forest. He almost wanted to lie down in it, if it wasn’t for the mud and cold air that nipped at him. A pool was set into the ground, covered with a tarp of some sort and lined with smooth fancy stones.

His morals fought as he approached the window, pushing on it to test if it opened, it jostled slightly but seemed to be stuck. He really didn’t want to smash another person's window, even if this neighborhood was rich. He already planned to steal items from this complete stranger, and even if they had the money to replace what he stole many things hold sentimental value.

Tommy gave one last attempt to push the window up and open, hands shaking from both the cold and his own fear. He felt nauseous, uncertainty filling his mind. His eyes went wider when the window pushed open with ease, the homeowner hadn’t even bothered to lock it. This must be a pretty safe neighborhood, the lack of caution was rather uncommon where he came from. 

Tommy felt terrible for crashing in such a safe place.

Still, he persisted with his goals, carefully pushing open the white curtains so he wouldn’t stain them with how dirty he was. He stepped in the window, stumbling at the unexpected drop into the house. The interior of the house felt very homey, and the blonde found himself gazing around it in awe. There were many potted plants scattered around the room that seemed well cared for even in the home owners absence. A single mushroom sat in a pot on the sill of the window he had come through, he was relieved he hadn’t accidentally knocked one of the pots to the ground. The room seemed to consist of a pretty repetitive color pattern, with the occasional strange clash of color. That was a weird style choice. 

Whoever lived here owned quite of bit of memorabilia from moments of their life.

Various photos were hung up on the wall, many of them showcasing a trio of friends. He paused to study one of the photos, the group appeared to be having fun at some sort of festival. They all had very different clothing styles, it was almost amusing. Looking left to right, there was a guy in a green hoodie and black pants. He seemed to be yelling triumphantly, his blonde hair sticking up all over the place. He had his arm slung around the next guy, who wore a blue shirt with a white turtleneck under it. Swim goggles perched on his head. The guy the farthest to the right seemed to be trying to act sad, but a slight smile was on his face at his friend's antics. He wore a black turtleneck with a white shirt over it, a white bandanna neatly around his head.

They seemed like nice people. People who actually deserve what they have. Tommy winces trying to shake the thoughts away. If he wanted to survive he had to change his way of thinking. He needed to be tougher. 

Tommy looked further into the house, peeking around. It seemed like it was suited to fit one person, as he could see the kitchen from the living room, and aside from closets there really weren’t many other rooms. Due to its small size, it was easy to find the room he needed: The kitchen. He felt slight hope begin to worm his way into his chest, his stomach letting out a slight growl reminding him further as to why he's here. If he was lucky, he would find food. He really hadn’t ever cooked before, but he needed something more than the scraps he’s managed to get on the streets. He had been thin before becoming homeless, however, he had been eating normally then. Without that substance, he has quickly become more scrawny. This was his chance to get some much-needed calories, and he couldn’t waste it. 

He rummaged through the cabinets, unable to find anything that was easy to cook. It seemed like whoever lived here wasn’t much of a microwave dinner person. There were various types of spices, weird cooking utensils, alongside various pots and pans. A lot of it was unfamiliar to Tommy, and he felt his excitement begin to drop as he realized he was going to have to figure out something he could cook. It had only been a few months of being on his own. However, he hadn’t cooked much on his own when he had lived with his parents and didn’t usually have the materials to do so in the homes he found himself in afterward. He would throw together something simple like a sandwich, however, the person who lived here hadn’t left any bread behind. Most likely due to their long absence, it would be stupid to leave things behind that would mold. 

Whatever was in the fridge seemed to be his best bet. He walked back over to it, opening it and examining the continents. Unlike the rest of the kitchen that was full of fancy items, the fridge was pretty bare. He looked around the fridge spotting some tortillas. He could probably make do with that. He picked them up and set them on the counter gently, not wanting to damage them. After a few more minutes of searching, he had acquired a few more items to make a meal with. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. 

On the counter was now a tortilla, some leftover chicken, and a bag of shredded cheese that didn’t have much left in it. He cautiously sniffed the bag of cheese, reassured when it spelled completely normal. The chicken surprisingly didn’t seem to be that old. 

Now for the hard part. 

He approached the stove, snagging a small pan from where they hung above the cooking appliance. He took a deep breath in, leaning in to study the settings on the stove. He turned the first nob all the way up, quickly recoiling at his own actions slightly worried it would cause an unexpected reaction from the appliance, but quickly calmed down when nothing drastic happened. Tommy watched curiously as one of the sections on the stovetop would occasionally appear lit up as it heated itself. Tommy nodded to himself, slowly beginning to gain more confidence in what he was doing. He was worried the food would stick. Wanting to prevent it he combed his memory for moments of his mom cooking, picking up that she often used oil to prevent sticking. At the realization, he quickly located some cooking oil and put a bit into the bottom of the pan. That seemed right.

He set the pan on the stove letting it gain heat and quickly put together some sort of makeshift cheese and chicken quesadilla. He dropped the full tortilla into the pan, enjoying the sizzling sound as it touched the pan. After watching it for a moment he realized with panic he hadn’t grabbed a spatula. He quickly checked some of the nearby drawers and was relieved to find what he needed. 

From what he could remember it usually took a bit for them to fully cook. While he was worried as it was his first time actually using the stove, he figured it would be fine if he wandered away for a moment in hopes of finding a jacket, and maybe a change of clothes that fit him. It wasn’t too hard to locate the bedroom in the small house. Tommy forced a smile to himself, ignoring his gut feeling of guilt. He tried not to snoop too much into the stranger's personal space, but he still had to gaze around to locate the closet. The room was very aesthetic, fairy lights were hung around it in careful loops. The bed was neatly made, with multiple pillows resting on its surface. It looked extremely comfortable. 

He forced himself to look away from the bed, it was so tempting to take a nap. But this wasn’t his home. Instead, he walked over to the closet, opening it. It was decently sized and had various types of clothing items throughout it. He began looking through the clothes, losing track of time as he tried to find something plain among the various items

He quietly hummed to himself as he searched, the tune one he had picked up from a teen that had bought him lunch awhile ago. 

The memory was quite fond, and he enjoyed it. He had bumped into the stranger while exiting another house he had broken into to take refuge in realizing the owners were coming back. He had been in a hurry, not keeping a close eye on his surroundings. Due to this, he found himself crashing into a tall lanky teenager. Initially, he had been extremely scared, stumbling back from the stranger and falling on his butt. It was actually quite humiliating. He could remember what the guy was wearing when he first encountered him: A yellow turtleneck, a maroon beanie atop his head somewhat keeping his fluffy hair in check. 

  
  


The teen had looked baffled, his wire-frame glasses hanging partially off his face having been jostled from impact. He looked at the scrawny kid in front of him, quickly regaining his composure from nearly being toppled by someone younger than him. 

“Watch where you're going you little gremlin!” While the words seemed harsh, they were teasing. However, Tommy still flinched at them, not used to friendly jests. It wasn’t until the stranger offered him a hand to help him up that he slightly calmed down, accepting it and allowing the stranger to pull him up from the pavement. 

He did his best to keep his voice steady with his response, “Hey! I might be a gremlin but at least I’m not built like a fucking tree! Did someone use fertilizer on you or some shit?” The stranger stared at him, amused. 

“I’m not that much taller than you!” He began to laugh, slight confusion in his tone. The kid was brash. The stranger took a moment to look over Tommy, who was in horrible shape. Tommy picked up as his expression shifted to concern, and the blonde panicked. He couldn’t be brought to authorities and thrown back into foster care. He couldn’t get caught. The stranger, picking up on the panic quickly took action.

“For a dumb child, you're pretty fucking funny. I was planning to head out by the waters and play guitar, grab some food, relax. You seemed like you were in a rush, but I, Wilbur Soot Watson, am extending you this grand offer if you want to take it. Most of my friends were busy today anyways, and they have shit taste in music” He put on a grin as he jested at his friends, clearly hoping the kid would accept his offer.

Tommy had hesitated, wary of trusting a stranger. However he seemed kind, and the wandering kid didn’t have much to lose. If he got pushed into the system again he could just run, alternatively if the music man killed him there wasn’t much to his life anyways. Making his choice he had nodded, finally noticing the guitar case that was strapped to Wilbur’s back.

Wilbur grinned wider, beckoning for Tommy to follow him.

Wilbur had led him to a cheap burger shop, and despite his protests had bought him food to go. Including a large soda that he clutched closely as they walked down to the docks, taking cautious sips as the two talked. 

As they arrived at the docks Wilbur took off his guitar case, pulling out his guitar. His breath was visible as he let out a heavy exhale. He didn’t normally play in front of people. Seeing Wil’s breath reminded Tommy of how cold it was, yet neither of them were wearing jackets. 

Wilbur sat facing the waters, setting his guitar case off to the side. He looked in the zone, but seemed to remember something, setting his guitar back down in the open case for a moment. 

He chucked “I almost forgot we brought food with us, I wouldn’t want it to get cold. Come on Tommy! Come sit with me. The water is stunning from here”. The kid had revealed his name on the walk over, steadily opening up to the teen. Tommy walked forward cautiously, sitting close to Wilbur, looking out at the water. They both began to pull out their food to eat.

“Wow. The water’s nice here. I uh.. can see why you like to come out here” The blonde said quietly, watching as the water lapped at the supports of the doc. The sun was drooping in the sky, causing the water to reflect the ombré of orange hues. 

“Hah! The brash kid is actually a softie! All bark no bite! You're like a chihuahua!” Wilbur chuckled at his own joke, taking another bite of his food. Tommy looked at him annoyed, crumbling up the wrapper from the burger he had scarfed down and throwing it at him.

“Your annoying” Tommy whined an empty insult. 

They had sat in silence for a few moments, Wilbur appearing to be in thought. The elephant in the room had yet to be addressed, and sadly it couldn’t be avoided forever. 

“So. Toms. What are you doing wandering the streets alone in battered clothes? Where are your parents? Why were you so quick to go with someone you don’t know?” Wilbur's voice became slightly shaky, his hands gripping the dock as he looked away from the kid he had been hanging out with. 

Tommy’s relaxed posture quickly became rigid, he froze in place staring at the teenager that had brought him to the docks. Fuck. This was it. He was going back.

Tommy’s mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again. Words seemed to escape him, he tried to fall on some bluff that would somehow cover his situation without having to tell the truth. There was no way to hide it, but something about Wilbur made Tommy want to open up about the forbidden topic. 

“I’m.. a foster kid. I ran. Figured I could take better care of myself than any of the assholes I was placed with. So far I uh. I think I was right. Might not be the most comfortable life, but uh. I’m alive right?” Tommy shuffled nervously, as Wilbur still wasn't facing him. He began to pick at his shoes, noticing how scuffed they were becoming. The silence was horrible.

“I’ve been there. You're never gonna want to give up your independence, are you? Wander forever, be your own person. Because you can’t rely on anyone. The people you're supposed to be dependent on.. either don’t give a shit about you or hurt you. But you know, not everyone's shitty. I managed to get adopted by a nice guy after running a lot. Obviously got caught in order for that to happen, I was.. extremely spiteful over it at first” Wilbur let out a broken laugh, the memories slightly painful.

“I thought I was a pity case. He already had adopted a son that was around my age, his name is Techno. Fucking Techno Blade! What kind of name is that? What's the point in taking another? Saviour complex? I doubted everything, I didn’t want to owe the man anything. But... Eventually, I realized he actually did care. He viewed both me and Tech as sons and over time, I learned to love him as a dad. His names Phil. Maybe I can introduce you to him if you would ever be willing to visit us someday” Wilbur put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder in a comforting manner. 

“It can get better, but in order to get there you have to let people help you” Tommy looked at Wil in the eyes, he was feeling various emotions. Shock at Wilbur being a foster kid, anger at the assumption his life wasn't fine as it was, envy that Wilbur found a good home while in the system. Tommy frowned, his brain finally processing Will’s offer.

“No. I don’t, I don’t think I can go to your home. It wouldn’t feel right you know? It would be like bringing a stray cat home. Besides I’m pretty uh, content with my life right now. But.. you. Do seems pretty cool. Could we- maybe” Tommy stumbled over his words, not wanting to be coaxed into giving up his solo life, but also not wanting to fully be alone. Wilbur was nice. He didn’t want to lose contact with Wilbur. The teen was patient, awaiting the kid's response. However, his face had taken on a sadder expression as the kid declined his offer.

“Uh, could we hang out again sometime” 

Wilbur nodded, finally picking his guitar back up from his case. He didn’t want to force the kid to come with him. 

“Yeah. We can. I come down to the docks almost every Thursday around this time. I’m working on a new album, so I’ve been down here practicing. Feel free to come join me anytime. I’m usually by myself” 

Wilbur had begun to strum the guitar, starting up the cords to one of his songs. He was really good at acoustic, and Tommy had sat as he played continuing to watch the sunset. He would always hold that moment close. Wilbur was the first friend he had in a long time, and they had met up more after that first time at the dock. Tommy would lie with his back to the wood, watching as clouds drift by, or would have a casual conversation with Wilbur. 

He wondered if that’s what it was like to have a brother, someone who cared for you but still let you do dumb shit. He smiled, happy to reminisce on his times with Wil. Thursday should be coming up pretty soon, maybe he would drop by again. 

While he thought about the teen he had finished going through the clothes, finding a slightly oversized light blue hoodie. It had no sort of logo on it and didn’t seem to have much value. It would be slightly big on him, but he didn’t have much room to be picky. Not wanting to take any more of the stranger’s belongings he backed out of the closet, trying not to get the hoodie dirty. He wondered if he could take a shower while he was here. It had been a while since he had one, and he was aware he looked like utter shit. It would be nice to wash his hair.

Suddenly he was lifted from his thoughts by the smell of smoke. He had become so immersed in his past while looking through the clothing that he had forgotten he had left food on the stovetop in the other room. He cursed to himself quietly and decided to throw on the hoodie quickly, it didn’t matter if it got dirty at this point. He needed to make sure he hadn’t burnt his food. 

He quickly darted back into the kitchen, the smell of charred food becoming stronger the closer he got. He grimaced as he spotted a small fire in the pan, and felt his stomach drop when he realized it had sparked onto the potholder that had been left on the counter by the stove. 

Tommy began to breathe heavily, panic setting in as his thoughts raced. He had never had to put out a fire before, and this wasn’t even his house. He really couldn’t afford fuck this up. Looking around the modest-sized kitchen his eyes locked on the sink. Water stopped fire, right? It was such common knowledge, it's what firefighters used most of the time so it was probably the right move. 

He rushed forward, grabbing a bowl from one of the cabinets he had rummaged through earlier quickly carrying it to the sink. His foot nervously tapped on the tiles below him as he watched it fill up with water. The moment the bowl was full he dashed to the stove, throwing the water all over the appliance and the counter. He sighed in relief as the fire instantly died down from the liquid and reached in quickly to turn it off. What he wasn’t expecting was for the fire to come back up stronger the moment he reached forward. He had managed to turn the stove off, but his arm was engulfed in the flame causing the child to cry out and fall back clutching his injured arm. The fire was so high it started to lick at the overhang of wood at the top of the stove. He stared with fear, frozen in place as his arm throbbed with pain, a severe burn covering the middle of it. The hoodie he had just stolen was now burned through, flames clinging to the sleeve. He quickly ripped off the hoodie, doing his best to ignore the jarring pain in his arm. He quickly through the flaming hoodie accords the room, not wanting to have the fire close to him. 

Another mistake, as it immediately caused the fire to spread further. The tacky wallpaper of the kitchen was now set aflame, the original stove fire spreading as well. It was gradually consuming the whole room. Tommy sat, watching the amber glow in fear and horror. He had done this. He had fucked up horribly. This was all his fault if he had only just-

A piece of wood crashed to the ground ending the self-deprecating thoughts and causing the blonde to jolt up from where he had been slowly curling in on himself in his panic. He knew he needed to get out or he too would be consumed by the flames, or if he was’ completely turned to ash, most likely go to jail or worse. What did they even do with kids like him? He couldn’t go to juvie, he wouldn’t survive with the harsh kids there. He may act tough, but he wasn’t actually that strong. 

He looked around the kitchen for his bag hoping it wasn’t caught in the roaring inferno, to his luck the barstool he had left it on was yet to be consumed. He ran over to it, slinging the bag over his uninjured arm. Feeling better now that he had secured his backpack, he carefully exited the room, aware that if the fire had spread to the doorway he would have been trapped. He tried not to think about it too much knowing he couldn’t afford to add to his already growing panic. He paused before making his escape, looking at all the plants that were clearly loved and the items that represented memories for the stranger's house he had invaded. They were all going to burn. 

He looked back at the slowly spreading fire that was starting to pick up the pace, then the photos that littered the wall. He made a stupid decision.

He ran to the wall and began to pull the framed photos off of the wall, some were harder to get down than others. This was the least he could do due after the tragedy he has caused. He pulled his bag fully up into his back, minding his injured arm. He gathered the photos in a stack supported by his hands. He got to the exit as quickly as he could while being cautious with the photos, making it outside with a painfully slow pace, and set the photos in the center of the backyard near the pool. He proceeded to throw his backpack on the ground beside them, turning back to the now smoking house. He wanted to save a few of the plants too. It may seem stupid, but someone cared for them, and he would feel like shit letting them wither away in there.

He ran back to the window, entering the house. The air was now heavily tainted with smoke making it extremely hard to breathe. Still, he persisted, heading back to the living room. He couldn’t save any of the bigger ones, but the smaller ones were possible. He picked up two before noticing how far the flame had spread at this point. It was surrounding him. He couldn’t grab anything else.

He looked around at the other plants 

“Im sorry” He whispered hoarsely, the smoke causing his throat to be sore and his voice to be low and broken. He left the room with the two plants, narrowly avoiding getting burned on his way out. As he got to the window he spotted the single mushroom pot on the windowsill and managed to grab it as well. He brought it into his arms, wincing as his burn injury was pushed against the pots. It was fine. He needed to get them out. He finally exited, setting the plants near the stack of photo frames. Unable to do anything else, Tommy collapsed to the ground, coughing heavily. He was so fucking stupid, what kind of person runs into a burning building to save plants. 

‘I guess the kind that burns down a strangers house while robbing from them’ The thought came unwanted, but it was true. He let himself fall back into the grass, it was about as soft as he thought. He let his eyes slowly slide shut as he focused on steadying his breathing, his adrenaline slowly fading causing the pain in his arm and chest to grow.

He laid there for quite a while, not wanting to get up with his aching body. He had really messed up this time. He felt like such an asshole, a stupid entitled brat that thinks he can just take things from people without consequences. That’s exactly what he was. Maybe he should just lie here and face whoever decides to pick him up. Maybe they would assume he lives here, and be nice to him and get him to the hospital and feed him and take care of him. Perhaps think he’s an innocent kid and not a piece of scum that’s somehow still existing on this Earth. That’s not what he deserves though. 

Maybe he should have allowed himself to pass out due to the smoke and burn to ashes in that stranger’s home. 

The thought of staying and facing one of the emergency workers was quickly dropped the moment he actually heard the sirens, fight or flight kicking in at the noise. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t deal with more shitty people. He barely had a reason to exist as it was, that would just make it worse. Wilbur’s words vaguely drifted into the back of his mind, but now wasn’t the fucking time. He had basically just committed arson. 

He pulled himself from the Earth, wincing at the ache in his chest from his fall earlier. Hopefully, that would heal quickly. He grabbed his tattered red bag, hugging it to his chest for a moment, before putting it back over his back again. He sighed, feeling light-headed from exhaustion already. 

Pushing himself to move forward he returned to the fence, heading over it the same way he did previously, although with much more struggle due to his new injuries. He didn’t fall to the ground this time, instead of managing to carefully climb down to the other side. The fence left splinters on his hands as if to spite the kid for bypassing its protection. 

Despite his exhaustion, he bolted once he got over the fence, running from the burning house. The sirens that plagued him became distant, and his thoughts quieted down a bit. Mostly because of his mind becoming clouded. He continued to put all of his energy into moving forward. Away from the inferno, he had caused. He had to keep running. 

He chose to not look back, the guilt that already followed him was enough as it was. He wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive himself for this. He’s done a lot of illegal things since he’s been on his own, but this is by far the worst. 

He ran until he was physically at his limit, he stumbled into an alleyway as his functions began to cease, his legs buckling and bringing him down to the cold ground. He heaved, attempting to breathe in more air than this chest would allow causing pains as he struggled for air. He felt as if he could no longer move his legs, a raging pain had taken over them from overuse. He tried to force himself to keep consciousness, he needed to find somewhere safe. However with his physical exhaustion, his brain was slowly shutting down, and before he knew it he was passed out on the ground, his will to stay awake losing the fight to his crippling exhaustion. 

The world went black. 

  
  


———

  
  


Due to his haste, he hadn’t noticed the man in the green hoodie that had seen him sprinting from the burning house, a disgruntled look on his face. He had been speaking with authorities but had looked up in time to see the kid run from the scene. 

**Author's Note:**

> uh aha. Wilbur was totally playing Since I saw Vienna. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! More to come :D


End file.
